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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29138031">the voices of home</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tori_Scribbles/pseuds/Tori_Scribbles'>Tori_Scribbles</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>a family's lives [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Old Guard (Movie 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Booker | Sebastien le Livre &amp; Nile Freeman Friendship, Closure, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Exiled Booker | Sebastien le Livre, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Homesickness, Nile Freeman Needs a Hug, Post-Canon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 07:33:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,907</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29138031</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tori_Scribbles/pseuds/Tori_Scribbles</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Nile closes the front door behind her softly as she steps out onto the porch, the wooden deck warm under her bare feet in the evening. She pushes herself up to sit on the porch wall, leaning back against one of the beams as she watches the file download on her phone screen. She has no idea what it could be. Copley just forwarded her a message straight from Booker that had just said that she may want privacy when she listens to it. </p><p>When the file finishes downloading, she taps her finger over the play button. Unable to help the slight feeling of uncertain nerves that flutter inside of her.</p><p>Her earbuds crackle as somebody moves the microphone.</p><p><i>“Nile,” Booker starts on the recording, his voice sounding rough and tired. “You told me before that all you wanted was to hear your mothers voice one last time. While you cannot see her again in person, I hope this brings some comfort.” </i><br/>.<br/>.<br/>.<br/>Booker had been responsible for Nile's rough introduction to immortality, to make amends, the first action of his exile is to try and bring her some peace.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Nile Freeman &amp; Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>a family's lives [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1941214</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>56</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>the voices of home</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I totally meant to post this before new immortal, old tricks but just found it in my files and realised I hadn't.<br/>Can be read alone or part of the series.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Nile closes the front door behind her softly as she steps out onto the porch, the wooden deck warm under her bare feet in the evening. She pushes herself up to sit on the porch wall, leaning back against one of the beams as she watches the file download on her phone screen. She has no idea what it could be. Copley just forwarded her a message straight from Booker that had just said that she may want privacy when she listens to it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the file finishes downloading, she taps her finger over the play button. Unable to help the slight feeling of uncertain nerves that flutter inside of her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her earbuds crackle as somebody moves the microphone.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Nile,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Booker starts on the recording, his voice sounding rough and tired. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“You told me before that all you wanted was to hear your mothers voice one last time. While you cannot see her again in person, I hope this brings some comfort.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Nile’s heart pounds in her chest at his words, her stomach twisting at the prospect. Whatever she expected this file to be, it wasn’t this. But she doesn’t stop it, tears already on her cheeks when the audio cuts and restarts.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“My daughter, Nile,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>her mother’s voice says as gentle as ever and Nile has to clamp a hand over her mouth to stifle her sobs as they came. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I hope that God has let her be at peace now.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I only knew her for a short while,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>an unfamiliar man says, his voice thick with a New York lilt and it takes Nile a second to recognise it as Booker. He’d actually flown out to Chicago to see her mother for her. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“But she was kind to me even though she had no reason to be.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“She always was, to anyone.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>A sob catches in Nile’s throat at the sound of Isaiah’s voice, a fresh wave of homesickness hitting so hard she feels as though she may actually throw up as she thinks of her baby brother sounding so sad because of her. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“No matter who they were, she always had time for them.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I was lucky to know her,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Booker says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Isaiah hums. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“We all were.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I pray that she knows how loved she is.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>There is something so fundamentally painful in hearing your mother cry and Nile feels as though the pain will crush her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The audio file ends and Nile is already restarting it. Closing her eyes as she listens, trying to memorise everything about their voices as tears drip from her chin. It hurts even more to hear that beneath their sadness, they’re doing okay without her. It comes as a relief to know but some part of her hates it. Because if they truly weren’t coping, she’d go back to them in a heartbeat, immortality be damned. The guilt comes fast, washing away the relief as she realises that she’s essentially wishing her family sadness just so she can selfishly see them again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She plays the audio for a third time and it doesn’t feel easier to get lost in their voices.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A soft hand settles on her arm and Nile startles, her earbuds falling out as she swings her arms around ready to defend herself but softens as she recognises Joe through her tears. He smiles at her, his expression warm but his eyes full of sympathy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She feels a rush of embarrassment flood through her, slightly ashamed that she’d been caught having a breakdown while the others were happily inside. But Joe doesn’t say anything, just brushes a tear from her cheek with the soft pad of his finger letting her fall forwards into his arms. He holds her up easily, just rubbing soothing circles into her back as she soaks his shirt in snot and tears. He never shushes her or tells her to stop crying, just murmurs softly to her with gentle Italian words that she doesn’t really understand and reminds to breathe when her sobs half turn to gags.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When her body has nothing more to give, she feels heavy and exhausted and a little bit like a child but doesn’t pull away, taking comfort from the warmth of his embrace. She decided in her early days with them that Joe gives the best hugs and that stands true now as he seems to hold her with his whole body, one hand cradling her head as the other rubs against her back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks in English, keeping his voice low and soothing and she considers saying no before she nods. Pulling away slightly, keeping herself tucked under one of his arms so that she can look down at her phone, she tugs out the headphone cable so she can play it aloud.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nile forces her eyes to stay fixed on the screen as it plays again and Joe listens quietly, his fingers combing through her hair only falter for the slightest of seconds as he hears Booker’s voice before they continue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The clip ends and he waits for her to decide what to say and she struggles for a minute, trying to condense all that she’s feeling into sentences that stand a chance of making sense before she gives up and simply settles on a quiet, “I miss them.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joe’s lips press comfortingly against her temple and she finds herself leaning even heavier into his touch. Closing her eyes, she allows herself to pretend for just a second that she’s standing under the Chicago sun and it’s Isaiah’s arms around her instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are they like?” he asks and she opens her eyes to flick back to her home screen, tilting her phone so he can see a picture of the three of them. “They’re beautiful,” he says softly, with that tone of sincerity that no mortal could ever replicate and she knows he’s being honest. “You and your brother look alike. You inherited the kindness in your eyes from your mother.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She used to tell us,” Nile starts quietly, her voice so cracked the words sound hoarse, “that it’s the only thing you can truly give for free. It doesn’t cost anybody anything to be kind to people.” She manages to smile sadly at the memory. “After my dad died and she was already working two jobs, she used to volunteer at the local community centre whenever she could. She taught us to believe in people, even if those people came from the worst situations.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She sounds like a very wise woman,” Joe says, “the world could do with more people like her.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s the best. But it was Isaiah who really took it to heart,” she tells him softly, “he struggled a lot with his mental health when he was a teenager but once he was doing better, he became the nicest person. He always stops to help people on the street, works at a local youth group and he’s at college now, he’s going to be a child psychiatrist. All he wants to do is help people.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sounds a lot like someone else I know,” Joe says, nudging her gently and she looks up at him and manages a small laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I learnt it from him,” she assures him, “I never felt like the older sibling around him.” She looks up at him, her eyes shining. “You and Nicky remind me of him sometimes, you’re both so warm and do small things for people just because you want everyone to enjoy life a little bit more. Then Isaiah would quote something so wise and deep that it makes you reevaluate things like Nicky does. I think you would’ve liked him.” She finishes softer but she believes what she says. If the world was different and they got to meet, she hopes more than anything that they would’ve gotten on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joe’s arms around her tighten and he smiles down at her sadly, his eyes shining with sincerity. “I’m sure we would’ve.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not for the first time Nile wishes she had told Copley where to shove his forged KIA and gone home instead, taken her new family with her and introduced the two. But now she leans her head back against Joe’s chest and reminds herself that this is for the best. That she’d never be able to live with herself for an average lifespan let alone an extended one if someone were to find out her real identity and target her family.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you remember your family?” she asks, curiosity clouding her tact. She expects him to hesitate or brush away the question as he others do - Andy says she doesn’t remember her first family, Nicky’s weren’t the nicest of people and Booker… well, they all knew that story - Joe, however, smiles slightly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do, a little,” he says, getting that distant look in her eyes as he thinks back. “I was the eldest, with two sisters and a younger brother who died with my mother in childbirth. I took care of them a lot growing up” He frowns slightly like he isn’t quite sure of something. “Gamila was fifteen when I left home, Nadira was twelve. I used to draw their faces, over and over again so I wouldn’t forget them.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nile tries to imagine young girls with Joe’s curls and emotion filled eyes and finds herself smiling at the thought of them all. “It makes sense then, why you’re such a great big brother,” she says, her heart warming as he laughs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think our siblings shape us in more ways than we know,” he replies philosophically.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hums. “I think you’re right,” she says, looking back down at the photo of her brother’s smiling face again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on,” Joe says after a minute, his tone a little lighter, “it’s my turn to cook and you know how Andy can complain if there’s nothing to eat, why don’t we go inside and you can tell me more about them.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nile nods, shoving her phone and earbuds back into her pocket, letting Joe lead her back inside, away from the temptation of falling into despair as she listens to the audio on repeat for the rest of the night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-oOo-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Booker turns his phone back on as he steps out of Calais Airport, the summer evening chill feeling refreshing after that long on a commercial plane. The phone chimes in his hand, lighting up with a new message and he frowns.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Four people have this number and none of them should be contacting him. But the number that lights the screen is unfamiliar but he recognises the area code as Malta. For a brief moment, his heart seizes with the worry that if one of them are contacting him this soon then something has happened to them. To Andy. But he forces himself to relax as he sees the simple two words on the screen.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thank you.</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>
      <br/>
    </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>NF</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It brings something close to a smile to his lips. He had contemplated his trip to Chicago for weeks before he’d finally gone with Copley trying to discourage the idea. The uncertainty on how the gesture would be received had made him hesitate the most, he didn’t really know Nile all that well but the more he considered it, the more he longed to hear his family’s voices again, to have some small part of them to hang onto and it made his decision for him.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Kudos and comments are always appreciated ♥</p></blockquote></div></div>
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